He looked across at the hotel. Even though he hadn’t believed her, and couldn’t say he really knew the first thing about her, one thing was certain – Rita would not be at all happy about him walking out on her like this.

No one would.

It was a low act.

At least he should have had the guts to confront her. He’d been weak, cowardly – that pathetic note won’t help much either. In fact, he shouldn’t even have attempted a note. At times like this he knew it was always better to have said less.

Perhaps… if only…

Just… move on.

He began walking away from the hotel with the guy drifting along beside him, like two small boats quietly entering the swirling current of life.

“I have good sleeping place.”

“Good for you.”

“Also – good for you!”

Max stopped.

“Best sleeping place in all Mumbai!”

“You think?”

“You want I showing you – just two minutes walk?”

“Maybe.”

Max knew he’d eventually have to go back to the hotel, pick up the luggage they’d stored and go through the hassle of finding another place to stay. But there was no great rush, was there?

Of course there isn’t!

But on the other hand… should he trust this guy?

Talk about mistakes – this could be a whopper right here!

Mate… what is the problem with you?

Is it fear?

Are you afraid he’s going to steal your money?

Is that it?

Yes, that probably was it – some primal survival instinct, something in his blood, an awareness of extreme vulnerability – as if his money was his life.

Mate… that is pathetic!

He’d changed a lot of money at the airport – far too much. Now he had a vulgar wad of notes bulging crudely out of the pocket of his jeans.

“Do you know India Gate?” the guy asked.

Max laughed.

“Mate,” he said. “I know nothing.”